


The Punch | A Drarry Fanfic

by ablondeweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blaise being great, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Dancing, Draco Malfoy being flirted with by Durmstrang boys, Draco Malfoy speaking French to Beauxbatons girls, Harry's a little smarter than he should be except not idk what that even means, Ron actually going after Hermione instead of being stupid, Spiked Punch, Yule Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:11:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9325778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ablondeweasley/pseuds/ablondeweasley
Summary: Harry and Draco both didn't want to go to the Yule Ball. Harry's nervous and doesn't really want to dance with Parvati (she was just kind of his last choice) and he can't stop looking for something or someone, while Draco can't deal with his seemingly no-chance-in-hell unrequited crush on Harry. They both find relief in the spiked punch...and perhaps each other?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Drarry One-shot. How I wish the Yule Ball had gone...;) Some parts inspired by Too Darn Hot By Saras_Girl.

Harry  
It’s the beginning of the Champions Ball, and Harry swallows nervously, glancing over at Parvati.  
He doesn’t know why he chose her. He needed someone, he guesses. And Cho…  
He was actually fine that she had turned him down, Merlin knows why. Good for her and Cedric.  
He guesses that Parvati looks nice-fancier than she usually looks, of course.  
Harry doesn’t know why he doesn’t have the slightly opened mouth or widened eyes, the way Ron looks know, and most of the other boys, because of the way Pavarti and Padma and Hermione and all the other girls look.  
He’s so bloody nervous, his stomach whirling around inside of him and his heart beating so unsettlingly fast that he feels light headed.  
And he just wants to get this over with.

⭑✦⭑

Draco  
“’Ello there, ‘andsome.” Another of the Beauxbatons girls has come up to him, and Draco gives her a little smile.  
“Bonjour toi-même. Tu es belle ce soir.”  
She practically swoons, and responds in rapid-fire French. Draco nods and smiles, winking back when necessary, even though he’s not interested at all.  
It’s always this way, with the satisfaction that comes with admirers, the satisfaction that comes with charming them. And then the slightly empty, guilty feeling that Draco ignores, looking around to see if he’s jealous before he catches himself.  
Because of course he doesn’t give a flying fuck, and Draco doesn’t even want to think about him tonight...but all the same Draco ends the game, cutting the conversation off shortly but politely, and ignoring her sad look.  
It’s better for her this way.  
Draco turns down the other girls who come over even faster, and the two Durmstrang boys that follow when he catches a glimpse of Blaise. Thank Merlin.  
Blaise will help distract him.

⭑✦⭑

Harry  
The dance begins and Harry is terrible.  
He’s a terrible dancer, feels terrible for having to make Pavarti go through this, feels even more terrible when she kindly whispers directions, and three times as terrible as he feels sicker and dizzier the more it continues.  
Harry can’t stop looking around for something, someone, and he tells himself it’s for Cho and his friends, but he sees them all and they wave, and he’s still looking.  
And Harry feels even more terrible.  
⭑✦⭑

Draco  
Draco has to brace himself against the wall, and slightly against Blaise, when he sees him-fucking Potter.  
He’s so bloody beautiful that Draco’s heart skips a beat, and suddenly he’s so lightheaded he might faint.  
Potter looks really nervous of course, biting his lip the way he always does, and Draco can see the slight darkening of his dress robes below his shoulder blades to know that he’s sweating.  
Draco looks away quickly before his eyes drop down even further and get stuck on Potter’s arse, which Draco already knows looks fabulous, and turns back to Blaise.  
Blaise grins, holding a cup out to Draco, “Someone spiked the punch.”  
Good old Blaise, Draco thinks, sipping slightly and desperately trying to forget Potter. I’m going to need a lot of this punch to get through tonight.

⭑✦⭑

Harry  
Harry’s slowly dying, stumbling around, stepping on Parvati’s feet, face growing redder by the minute when she whispers something, “why did you ask me?”  
Harry doesn’t think; it’s far too hot in the sweaty, sticky, steam-filled room, which is growing hotter by the minute. “I dunno.” He’s still glancing around for some reason, nearly panicking-  
“I knew it.” Parvati seems to shrink, and when Harry quickly glances back at her he notices that her eyes are starting to shimmer just as much as her sparkling pale blue lids. “I’m a replacement.”  
“No, no-” Harry’s even stumbling around with his words now, but who bloody knows how to deal with an almost-crying girl, especially when you know it’s because you fucked up.  
“Well, you don’t have to dance with me after this.” Parvati’s whisper is twice as quiet, but when she looks up her mouth is twisted with a weird little smile. “I hope you get to dance with whoever it is you actually wanted.”  
Harry almost starts to apologize when he sees that she’s looking for someone else too.  
“I just hope you don’t step on their feet as much.”  
Harry smiles at her, and for a second he’s relaxing when he feels he’s getting the hang of this, and she’s not going to cry after all, when the song ends.  
Parvati’s already gone in the direction of a smiling Durmstrang boy when Harry realizes he’s not sure who he actually wanted.

⭑✦⭑

Harry  
Harry’s found his way over to Ron, and he’s feeling much better after several cups of punch, but still...empty.  
He thinks that maybe Ron feels the same way as his friend is clenching and unclenching his hands in his bloody-awful dress robes, watching Hermione and Krum twirl around again and again. Hmmm…  
“Hermione looks really pretty tonight, doesn’t she?”  
Ron’s hands freeze, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at Harry. “Yes.”  
“Shame she has to dance with Krum. Hermione deserves someone even better than him.”  
Ron’s already standing up, nodding, “bloody bastard Krum. You’re so right, Harry. Someone has to get rid of that wanker…”  
Harry finds it funny how much Ron’s cursing the very same famous Quidditch player he couldn’t stop gushing about before.  
He smiles to himself, glancing around the room-  
Fuck.  
Bloody hell.  
Harry’s spilled his punch all over his new dress robes as his heart drops into his stomach, and he almost throws up.  
Malfoy, fucking Malfoy, is laughing in the corner with Zabini, and he’s...beautiful.

⭑✦⭑

Draco  
Draco doubles over laughing, almost falling on the ground. Blaise’s jokes seem ten times as funny when you’re drunk.  
“Merlin, Blaise. I’ve never thought about Goblins going grocery shopping before!” Draco says, and they both double over all over again when Draco hears Potter’s laugh.  
Draco stops, having almost forgotten Potter’s here, and only a couple feet away, although it seems like several years.  
Fucking Potter.  
Draco knows that he can’t laugh with Blaise anymore, now that Potter’s caught his attention again.  
And he curses himself for coming tonight; he could've easily gotten out of it, and now he has nothing to distract himself from Potter.  
Fucking Potter, with his dress robes now rolled up to his elbows and his toned, sweat-sheened forearms. Stupid Potter, with his damp, messy hair falling into his eyes, and his glasses sliding down his nose. Idiot Potter, with his dress robes the exact, beautiful color of his eyes, and his three buttons undone at his collar—three!—so that it gapes, showing a patch of tanned collarbone to Draco that Draco’ll probably dream about for the next week. Potter’s looking far more relaxed than he did at the start of the ball, which probably has something to do with the littered punch glasses surrounding him; empty glasses that he probably didn’t know were full of spiked punch. Potter’s also alone-Patil’s gone, Granger’s gone, even the bloody Weasel’s run off somewhere.  
Draco inhales sharply and tightens his grip on his current punch glass, wrapping slippery fingers around the stem. His dress robes are sticking to him in all kinds of uncomfortable places, and his hair is ruined: plastered against his forehead. He scowls, knowing that Blaise his eyeing him with that bloody Look, and Draco’s done.  
Draco sets down his glass and turns away from Blaise.  
He hates balls, hates music, dancing, punch, and most of all he hates fucking Potter.  
But as Draco turns to leave, he realizes that he has to pass Potter to go, and-  
BloodyfuckingMerlinwhatthehell.  
Potter’s spilled his punch all over himself, and he’s staring at Draco.

⭑✦⭑

Harry  
Fuck.  
Harry’s been caught.  
He’d thought he had mastered the fine art of Watching Malfoy; he hasn’t been caught once since the start of the year.  
But then again, he hadn’t expected Malfoy to look so...fuck. And Harry’s starting to suspect that the punch was spiked.  
But that doesn’t change anything: Malfoy’s right there, only a couple feet away, his grey eyes wide and his elegant eyebrows slightly furrowed.  
Harry can’t break eye contact. He’s stuck.  
And then Malfoy starts walking over to Harry’s table.

⭑✦⭑

Draco  
Draco doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. His feet are moving of their own accord.  
He’s decided to blame it on the punch.

⭑✦⭑

Harry  
“M-Malfoy.”  
“Hello, Potter.”  
Malfoy sounds composed-the opposite of Harry. He picks up one of Harry’s glasses and frowns at it.  
“You did know the punch was spiked?”  
Fuck.  
“Erm.”  
Nice one, Harry. Bloody nice job there.  
Malfoy's looking around. “Where’s your date? And Granger? And the Weasel?”  
“Parvati’s...dancing with some, um Durmstrang boy, and Hermione’s with Krum.” Harry’s now sure that he’s drunk and mishears Malfoy; there definitely are no weasels that Harry’s familiar with.  
“Hmmm…” Malfoy sits down next to him and sighs. “Balls are so bloody terrible.”  
Harry doesn’t know what to say. Firstly, Malfoy’s sitting right fucking next to him, and secondly, Malfoy spoke with the tone of someone who had been to quite a lot of balls, so Harry doesn’t want to sound stupid.  
“Erm. Um.” Way to go, Harry. You definitely didn’t sound stupid then.  
“Fuck, Potter.” Malfoy’s turned to him, and he’s so close- “You seem to be incapable of speech tonight.”  
There it is. Harry knows what to do with that. He’s used to being insulted by Malfoy, which is now oddly comforting.  
“Just fuck off, Malfoy... I’m hot.”  
Malfoy rolls his eyes. “I know that, Potter. That’s the problem.”  
Wait, what?

⭑✦⭑

Draco  
No.  
NononononononononoNO.  
What the fuck did I just say?  
Potter’s green eyes are wide, and he’s completely silent. Everything is silent, even though the dance must of course have continued, and the band must still be playing. Draco has probably just gone deaf from all of the horrific screaming inside his head.  
Draco blames all of this on the punch.  
But he needs to do something, say something, anything-  
“Should I get us some more punch?”

⭑✦⭑

Harry  
Did Malfoy really just say that?  
Maybe he did. He’s gone all red and flushed like a tomato, and a rather appealing tomato at that.  
Merlin, did I really just think that?  
Harry tries to focus at the beautiful vegetable, no fruit, because tomatoes are fruits, in front of him.  
“Should I get us some more punch?” Malfoy’s asking, looking terrified.  
Wait, no. That did just happen.  
“Wait, you think I’m hot?” Harry asks.  
Merlin, why did I ask that? He’s going to tease me about this for the rest of the year!  
But Malfoy is, for once, speechless.

⭑✦⭑

Harry  
“Wait, you think I’m hot?” Potter has completely ignored his question. Fuck.  
Draco dies a little bit inside.  
He can’t think of anything to say...  
But he doesn’t have to.  


⭑✦⭑

Harry is sure he’s completely and utterly lost it.  
After everything, though, he can’t believe it happened over this.  
Harry’s doubled over laughing, the raucous kind that involves snorting and the possibility-no, certainty of falling on the floor.  
His eyes even tear up and he has to remove his glasses to wipe at them, momentarily blurring his vision of Malfoy.  
And at that second he asks.  
“Do you want to dance?”

⭑✦⭑

Draco  
Potter’s laughing and Draco’s dying.  
Fuck the world, Draco is going to drown himself in the lake tomorrow-  
“Do you want to dance?” Potter asks, and he’s smiling with his beautiful, slightly lopsided, yet perfect, sincere-  
Draco could go on forever, but there’s no time.  
“Yes.” He says, and though Draco’s chest always feels too small and tight, like his lungs end right below his collarbone, for a split second he feels something inside him loosen.


End file.
